My Poem: “Wonder How I’ll Go”


Wonder how I’ll go.
What will be my final blow?
What will finally bring me down
When life has brought me up, thus far,
And saved my life so many times before,
Till now, and kept me ’round?

Well, can’t complain.
I’m in God’s hands,
As inane as it sometimes sounds.
I know a Higher Power’s put me here,
And quelled my incessant fears.
It’s kept me going throughout the years,
And has been working Its powers
Without my knowing.
I don’t know if I’m coming
Or where I’m going;
So must bow my head
And keep on rowing;
Doing my best, and continuing to nurse
From God’s nurturing bosom
That’s freely flowing:
Food on the table, fruit in my mouth;
I’ll continue to cruise Life’s maze
Till laid “down south” —
While my spirit heads “up North,”
And keeps on going.

Yes, we keep on going!
We keep on rowing.
We’re a mighty herd of souls
That doesn’t stop growing!
Billions throughout the eons
Have kept on rolling.
That, alone, gives me food for thought:
The knowing I’m not alone
In this great river of life:
There is an energy
That holds me … enfolds me,
And souls that help
Save me and clothe me.
And there’s Genesis!!
Therein lies my thesis:
That I’m not alone.
Knowing this, alone,
Keeps me going.

Still, I wonder how I’ll go,
And what will be my final blow.
But knowing I’m not alone
And many have gone before me,
And continue to go right on,
Under my same circumstances,
Keeps my head up
And my qualms down
While I’m rowing,
And my feet on the ground
While I am sowing,
Storing good seeds in this life
For future growing —
All done in a mixture of
Wonderment and unknowing —
Yet, all the while knowing
A lot, just the same.
So in God’s name, I bow my head
And continue towing.

I won’t blame and I won’t dread,
Knowing soon enough I’ll be dead.
But long enough I was wed to Earth
And its circumstances
That have allowed me all my
Chances to grow, to learn,
To serve and be served,
And to earn my rest in Eternity
After being blessed to live
During Earth’s modernity –
Yes, just me and billions more,
Ad infinitum … 
into infinity.

So I’ll take the bull by the horns
And myself by the balls,
And no matter how
The “Bad wolf “ bawls,
I’ll follow the “Good wolf’s
Calls ‘till I enter
The heavenly walls
Of the Infinite God Energy —
I’ll take my chances,
Not worry ‘bout circumstances —
Like fear that something
Bad could happen.
I’ll just keep on steppin,
And  keep on keepin’ on,
Taking the good with the bad …
Never nappin’… my life long.
I was only here for a trip,
A temporary stay, anyway.
God meant it that way … not my way.

So soon I’ll be on my way.
Therefore, I’ll be a big girl now;
I’ll get by somehow —
Just like everyone else.
Tomorrow’s a new day,
And today I’m fine.
I’ll do it God’s way … not mine!
Help me make a difference, I pray,
And be a blessing
To Thy cause each day,

Is the only clause
I lay on my Maker —
My only request I send to
The “Grim Reaper”–
My “Taker” –
And life goes on and
Before you know it,
I will be gone …
And life will go on …
And so will my spirit …
And so will my song.




As Time Goes By

Another month of
Hurry-‘n’-scurry’s over,
And another to begin …
As time goes by.
Nice to feel God
Has me in His hands,
His fold … His mighty hold
As I continue ‘n’ keep on going …
And time goes by.

    July 2016

~ Photos of Relatives, Page 1

Note: When I have sufficient time, I will organize these pictures into relevant groups, writing names of who the people are.


ervil with marie, 2.jpeg
My Notorious Brother-in-law Daniel Jordan & Uncle Ervil LeBaron — holding my  daughter before I knew about what they were up to! I took this photo in 1971. My Aunt Irene LeBaron Spencer used it on the Book cover of her memoir, “Cult Insanity.” (see below:)


Photo of Uncle Ervil LeBaron holding my daughter


donna-and-barbara-websitemoms-story-larger-book-coverthe-sound-of-gravel    rebeck-kimbel-and-ed-kociela-on-youtube   no-man-knows-my-history-book-cover

ervil-in-another-film   his-favorite-wife-book-coverpolygamists-daughter   shattered-dreams-better-picthe-lebaron-story-book-cover-2   177_Rebecca_Kimbel


My Poem: “Ponderin’ and Wonderin’: A Conversation with Self”

Ponderin’ and Wonderin’:
A Conversion with Self


At seventy-one, I’m hung
upon my ladder’s last rung,
With its many steps,
And the protruding doornails
of a door half hung,
Wonderin’ what more
in life I could’ve won,
 And why still try
to do something
before I’m done?

Shouldn’t I presently
Commit to having fun?
Cease creating toil,
strife, ‘n’ strum?

Cease makin’ a mad dash —
My last dash left
to make s
omethin’ of myself?
Wouldn’t I now be better off
putting struggle on the shelf?

 And sure, I ponder:
I may still achieve anything
I’m willing to sacrifice for
But I can’t have everything–
The apple-pie metaphor,

The American dream,
And the gorgeous guy-next-door!
Though Positivists say
we can have everything our way–
And even more!

Great! Really?! I reply;
Let’s get real!
Though I’d try till I die,

Exerting effort till I fry,
I can only be sure of old age,
death, taxes, and the pill —
And drawing up my final will.

Yet, hope springs eternally,
on up ahead —

Lying in wait for me, still,
when I tumble abed;
And, as the sun sets overhead,
I continue to ponder …
and wonder …
wending my way up the hill …

Till suddenly I decide
pensive thoughts to kill,
And to take charge,
Get out of my head–
Change my thoughts,
Change my will,
Change my stead.

By choosing to be happy
And in the moment, instead,
I make all that’s positive,
pleasant, and good my Med
by treasuring the wonders,
and preserving the pleasures …
Nature’s bounteous blessings
that extend beyond measures–
An amazing, beauteous spread.

If we’re not busy livin’
We’re busy dyin’,

Guthrie and Dylan so aptly said.
Thus, I’m back in the saddle again,
Moving full speed ahead.
I’ve buried my worries
As though they were dead.

I won’t sweat the small things,
For as it’s been said,
All things are small things–
It’s all in our head–
Only fools walk around
Where angels won’t tread.










busy livin’
We’re busy dyin’,

Woody Guthrie and
Bob Dylan so aptly said.
Thus, I’m back in the saddle again,
Movin’ ahead.
I’ve buried my worries
As though they were dead.
I won’t sweat the small things,
For as it’s been said,
“All things are small things.
It’s all in our head.
And only fools walk around
Where angels won’t tread.”



My Poem: “My Life’s a Wreck!”

 Ships passing in the night.jpg

 My Life’s a Shipwreck!

 Or should I simply conclude:
That ship has sailed —
Like two ships passing in the night,”
Coming unglued?
Or I could say, “Life’s a train wreck.”?
Or has that train left the station too,
Like two trains passing a wreck or two?
I’ve lived a long time – a lifetime –
Longing for love, acceptance, a honey,
Fun, friends, faith, to be thin, fit in —
Have lots of money.
So to say that thoughts are things,
And they created my life, sounds funny.
I only know old age and strife
Have blown all my plans to heck,
And that’s not funny, Honey!
That’s a wreck!

 March 11, 2009




My Life’s a Train Wreck

My life’s been something of a train wreck,
Thanks largely to those moronic,
Mormon fundamentalist fools
Who raised me in “heck”!
My distress and deprivation are the worst —
I wonder why I’ve I been thus cursed.
Lately some of such has been reversed,
And that brings me gratitude, elation, and mirth!
But I’m still well-versed and rehearsed in tribulation.
With lips pursed, I thirst for quenching and rebirth.
And to be rid of this cursed drenching in dearth
My soul’s immersed in — so unrelenting, it’s sin!
But hope springs eternal, so tomorrow I begin again.
And I do expect eventually I’ll definitely win.


My Poem: “Cast Your Worries to the Wind”


Cast Your Worries to the wind

Cast your worries to the wind,”
 Uncle Joel LeBaron advised —
Cast them to the dust;
And let the rain settle them.”
In this, Uncle Joel was wise,
Despite some unbelievable lies
(In at least some people’s eyes.)

Yes, toss over your shoulder
The things you can’t shoulder —
Happily, toss the big boulder;
Don’t allow it to smolder —
Keep the lessons learned,
This education you’ve earned;
But leave the negatives behind
For the wind to blow away,
During your daily grind.
And rain settles all, over time.

 Evil loves to win; don’t let it in;
Don’t hold negatives within.
Dump them over the cliff,
As if they’d never been.

On your trip through time,
Never waste time on devil time;
For, to be sure, wasting time
Is a crummy crime —
Never worth anyone’s time …
any time
!   :)~

My Poem: “Battles of the Bulge”


I eat, at times, to simply nurture
That gaping hole in my existence, I’m sure.
But one feather in my cap is I regularly get up
And a do a great morning workout routine.
I may feel like I’m bent, spent, and useless,
For some time thereafter, should I overdo.
But somehow, I “work it all out,:”
And with rest’s assistance, am able to renew.

I’ll be eating again before long,
At hunger’s insistence —
For I lack strong resistance,
Can’t faithfully pass up food’s existence.
But thank God I’ve formed helpful habits:
I don’t store irresistible foods, for instance.
And buy healthful and unpackaged products,
For it all makes a difference.

But still I struggle
With this fat in my middle.
It’s an ongoing “Battle of the Bulge.”
How to win the battle is my unsolved riddle,
And has been since I came of age.
But, I tell myself, it could be worse;
So be glad I only have this struggle,
And not some more incurable curse.

~ My Poem: “Ode to Chava Chavarin and the ‘Tres Camarones’ Team”

Tres Camarones (Three Shrimp)


*Note: The following poem was inspired after I listened to the audiobook of
Into the Beautiful North,” By Dr. Luis Alberto Urea

Ode to Chava Chavarin and the “Tres Camarones” Team*

 What is in a name? I hesitate to say,
But the name, “Chava Chavarin,” continues
To ring in my brain today, anyway —
Though I finished reading
Into the Beautiful North” yesterday.

Like wind heard in the rain but can’t be seen,
It’s even invited my muse to come ‘n’ stay
And have her way
Long enough to spin out this verse,
For better or worse, today.

So what is in a name?  Well, let’s be terse:
It does seem “Chava Chavarin
Is a name befitting a comedian,
A performer, or boxer in a ring.

Then why do I find my thoughts
Continuing to chant “Chava Chavarin
Without ceasing, as in a song
You’re compelled to hum or keep singing?

I hear “Chava Chavarin” — with its
Bell-like, incessant ring
Continuing to chime at this time in my mind,
As it entices my muse to turn out more rhyme.

To say the least, it’s afforded
My morning some fun time, like the wind chime
Hanging on my backyard Catalina Pine
That playfully dings its unending
Ting-a-ling-ling,” at times.

And I can still hear Tia Irma incanting,
Hey, has anybody seen the amazing human being,
My dream, Chava Chavarin,
In whose memory I wear this precious ruby ring?

Into the beautiful north, of course,
They were heading, to find and bring back
The male being for a wedding — or a bedding —
Or for abetting their courageous scheme —
 Especially the noted Chava Chavarin.

This, I’d say, was a mission especially befitting
Nayeli, the super-quest queen,
And Atomiko, the self-knighted,
Unstoppable king.

I’m impressed with this
Enthusiastic, Quixotic team:
Like Cervantes’ Don Quixote
Chasing windmills in his dream,
They, too, did it their way!

And thank God for Chava Chavarin:
He saved the day
And helped fulfill the scheme
Of the ambitious “Tres Camarones” ring.*

(*Tres Camarones means “three shrimp.”)


Dr. Luis Alberto Urea, Professor, and Author of Into the Beautiful North
(From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)
 Into the Beautiful North is a book written by Luis Alberto Urrea and published by Little, Brown.[1] Written in 2009, it is set in Mexico and then the United States[2]as the main character Nayeli seeks seven men to help defend her small Mexican town against the bandidos who plan to take over.


The town of Tres Camarones is accosted by bandidos at a time when most of the men in the town have gone to America to look for work. After watching The Magnificent Seven, Nayeli, a nineteen year old girl, decides to travel to America to convince seven of the town’s best fighters to come back and fight the bandidos[3]

Nayeli and her three friends Yolo, Vampi and Tacho, begin their journey with the financial support of her aunt Tia Irma, the mayor of the town. Along the way they lose their luggage and a good deal of their money. In Tijuana, a garbage picker and skilled fighter named Atomiko helps them across the border. Once across, Nayeli seeks out the assistance of Matt, a missionary who had come to their town three years in the past and left her his phone number. They find two more warriors in a migrant worker camp.

Tia Irma takes a plane to San Diego to meet up with them, and while she continues searching for four more candidates to bring back to Mexico, Nayeli and Tacho leave for Kankakee, Illinois to look for Nayeli’s father, a former policeman. However, they find that her father has a new family, and she leaves without speaking to him. Meanwhile, Tia Irma has rounded up twenty-seven fighters.

The story ends as a boy on the roof of Nayeli’s taco shop shouts that he sees her in the distance with an army behind her.[4]